


the lucky ones (you & i)

by lostinanotherworld24



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Dear John Letter, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24628927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinanotherworld24/pseuds/lostinanotherworld24
Summary: She's 23 when she meets the man from America.He's 26 when he goes on a deployment that will change his life forever.
Relationships: Clay Spenser/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 33





	1. the stars align

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I have no business starting another chapter fic when WYL is still unfinished. That one is taking me a little bit of time, but the idea for this caught me and wouldn't let go. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave a review! 
> 
> PS: Work title and all chapter titles taken from The Lucky Ones by Lana Del Rey.

She’s 23 when she meets the man from America. 

Americans as a whole are not an unusual sight, with caravans of them passing through the tiny village where she lives on their way to the sprawling city just down the road. It’s a growing hub of business, or so she’s surmised from the bits that she overhears from her fellow villagers. Most of them have no use for foreigners and speak of them disdainfully, while she’s honestly indifferent; she’s got too many problems to worry about others. 

At least until one hot summer’s day. 

A soft breeze floats through, rustling the laundry hanging parallel to her home. She’s just finished hanging a shirt and some pants when the sound of a truck rumbling and then stopping comes. Surprised, she turns and looks, sees three men hop down from the bed of the truck and another get out of the passenger side. He’s carrying a tackle box and opens one of the backdoors to a man with his shirt lifted. At this, Husna blushes, because she hasn’t seen a man with his shirt off since she was away at university. 

But she also stares, blatantly. 

Because the man is gorgeous, with curly blonde hair and eyes the color of the ocean. He’s laughing now, a low chuckle that heats something inside of her. And the body underneath the shirt is to  _ die  _ for, intricate muscles carved across his abdomen. She wants him, in a way she hasn’t wanted anyone in a long time. The intensity of it is shocking, to say the least. 

Another laugh snaps her attention away, and she realizes the men have caught her staring. Embarrassed, she blushes and turns her gaze back to the laundry, and steadfastly ignores the teasing words volleyed back and forth. Her lust is edged with a little bit of disappointment because he’s just another man passing through that she’ll likely never see again. And isn’t that a shame. 

“Excuse me, ma'am. You wouldn’t happen to have an old sheet we could use, would you?” A voice speaks behind her, much closer than the last time she heard it. 

She gasps and whips around, sees the man from the passenger side suddenly just feet away. He’s startled, and then apologetic, holding up his hands in an obvious show of deference. Her heart rate is still too fast, but she forces her breathing to slow and nods. 

“Wait out here, please. It’s inside the house,” she requests, and goes inside, taking a moment to press her hand to her heart. 

For a second she watches the door to make sure he won’t try to follow her, before grabbing the old sheet crumpled in a corner. It’d gotten too stained and worn to be of use anymore, and she hadn’t yet decided on another purpose for it. He accepts it with a grateful smile and heads back across the road to the truck. She observes them for another moment, before finishing the laundry and going back inside. Soon after, the truck rumbles away again, and she can’t help but watch it leave with a sigh. 

Mentally she scolds herself for feeling anything at all; she’s just fine the way she is. Sure she sometimes dreams of having a husband and kids playing in the yard, of living in a home filled with light and life again. But she’s also accepted her fate, resigned to the fact that those dreams will probably die an ugly death. Her father had warned her what leaving would do to her standing in the community, told her that things would irrevocably change the day she got on the airplane. 

Neither of them anticipated that she’d be coming back just two years after leaving, or that she’d have to face that community without him. Although he’d been well-liked in the village she’d grown up in, they hadn’t forgiven him for letting her grow wild and mix with those they considered the enemy. After his death, they’d borne that out by shunning her until she was forced to leave and move to the village of her mother’s childhood. 

The people that inhabited that were just a little bit less traditional and didn’t have as much open disdain, but they also didn’t make her feel welcomed, made it clear that she’d never really fit in. It hurt deeply, but she refused to regret chasing her dreams. 

No matter how much she longed to have someone to hold. 

And if that night she dreams of a warm laugh and sunlit blue eyes, well nobody but she has to know. 

XXXX 

Clay Spenser hadn’t been exactly thrilled to learn he’d be spending his whole summer deployed. As a Navy officer, he was used to dealing with orders that outright sucked, but that didn’t take away from the fact that this blew the big one. Stella and he had been looking forward to spending her time off together and had even made tentative plans for going to a couple of festivals and shit. 

Safe to say she wasn’t pleased either and had given him a flat look of disappointment before walking out of their bedroom at the news. She understood it was out of his control, but also apparently couldn’t help but blame him for it. He was just privately grateful that she didn’t bring up the idea of him not re-enlisting because he didn’t want to have that fight again. Especially not before leaving for three months. 

The days winding down to his departure were spent in frosty silence, with her mumbling noncommittal responses to anything he said. He could have told her the fucking sky was blue, and she still would’ve just shrugged. It drove him up the proverbial wall, if he was being quite honest, and not for the first time he toyed with the idea of just breaking it off with her altogether. She knew what she was signing up for when they first got together, and the lack of support was something he didn’t need or want. 

A laugh escapes him at how over the moon Sonny would be to hear he finally got up the courage to leave. 

Qumar is the same as it looked the last time he was here, although that hadn’t been for some time. This is his first trip here with Bravo, and although Sonny had made hopeful noises in their briefing about it being a Gucci deployment, he knows it’ll be anything but. Camps of rebels have been steadily pushing their way towards where the American forces are concentrated, and in response, the Brass had sent Bravo to amp up security. 

Clay’s suspicions are borne out by the fact that they get into a brief firefight before even getting to their destination. It’s over quickly, and Clay sustains a mild graze across his stomach. Jason pulls over at the edge of some little town so Trent can tend to it and stop the bleeding.

A woman stands outside and hangs laundry, less than 100 feet from where they’ve parked. She’s watching him with pretty obvious lust, and it takes roughly two seconds for the guys to notice and start giving him shit. He’s more than aware that he’s not bad-looking, and he accepts their teasing with a couple of eye-rolls and a few jabs back. Trent decides that he needs some sort of cloth to scrub away the crimson painted across his skin, and with a devious smirk saunters across the road to bother the lady.

He comes back with a cloth in hand and lets some water from his canteen dribble over it, before handing to Clay. The guys watch this for a moment, waiting to see what commentary Trent might offer. He says nothing, and Sonny is the one who breaks first, eyes sweeping away from their surroundings towards Bravo Four.

“Well, is she as hot as she looks?”

“Even hotter.”

That incites another round of hooting and hollering, and Clay just shakes his head as the truck starts up again and they leave the village behind in the rearview. Although he does sneak a glance over his shoulder again, for a reason he couldn’t describe to anyone else. She’s gone, so he puts the whole incident out of his mind and focuses on the coming days. 

And if a tiny part of him hopes they’ll have occasion to run into each other again, well that’s his business. 


	2. let's get out (of this town)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave a review!

As it turns out, Husna ends up meeting the American again only a few short days later. 

The villagers’ excitement has picked up to near frantic speeds, due to chatter that rebels were approaching and planned to raid them. Husna would be lying if she were to deny her fear, but she deals with it in the only way she knows how: proactively. In the dead of night she packs her most important possessions into a bag and tucks it away under the bed, should she need to run out the door suddenly. She also steels herself mentally for the idea that she may have to leave this house behind and never return, and makes herself be okay with that. 

A knock comes when the moon is nearly directly overhead three nights later, a familiar voice speaking her native tongue. She throws on a coat to ward off the chill of the night, grabs the bag, and steps outside. He and some of the other men are waiting outside her door, and for a moment their eyes meet, before another hand is gripping her elbow and pulling her away towards where the others are huddled. She tries to follow him with her eyes, but soon loses him in the crowd of men all dressed alike. 

Nobody talks to her, but she listens to their conversations anyway, although most of them say nothing useful. Her people are too frightened and confused to offer anything she can use, and for that she can’t really blame them. This part of south Qumar has been blessedly free of most of the violence and wars that plagued the rest of it. The part that she grew up in wasn’t so lucky, and this is far from the first time that she’s had to get up and leave in the middle of the night;. 

They’re led away eventually, and grouped with another village a stone’s throw away. Husna finds herself at the back of the group, and searches the darkness as she walks, though there’s nothing to see. The moon is hidden behind clouds, and she prays she won’t embarrass herself by tripping over a root or something similar. 

“Well, we meet again,” a voice says, and she only grins because he can’t see. 

“I suppose we do, although we didn’t really meet the first time.” 

“I’m Clay,” he offers, and she responds in kind. 

For a second a relative silence falls over them, before she breaks it in a soft half-huff. 

“You’re certainly looking better than the last time I saw you.” 

He laughs a little at that, and although it’s nothing compared to the one he aimed at his friends, it still warms her. 

“If all goes according to plan, hopefully I can stay that way.”

She wants to talk to him more, to satiate that endless curiosity that always burns within her. But she’s fully aware that most of her questions don’t have answers that can be said aloud in this kind of environment, when it’s unclear who’s an enemy and who’s not. As it happens, one of the other men walking with them pulls Clay back and speaks to him in low tones, and she moves up and away a little bit in the group. 

Fuck, she wishes she could have seen his face again. 

Dawn is breaking over rolling hills when they reach what might be their final destination or just another stop, various groups shuffling off to rows of makeshift lodging. She gets assigned to a plain wooden building with broken windows and a lawn made of dirt. Her roommates are an old woman named Kinnette and a boy named Arqa who mostly softly cries for his parents. Between the two women, they manage to get him settled and complacent, although nothing they do or say can erase the obvious longing in his eyes. She privately resolves to attempt to talk to Clay and see if she can find out about the parents, or any other family. 

Kinnette spends most of her time praying, lips moving wordlessly over and over. Husna studies her for a moment, prayers from her childhood floating back into her mind. She thinks briefly of joining the older woman, before she decides against it and closes her eyes. Exhaustion has now fully set in, and her bones are screaming for some rest. The bed of hay she lays on isn’t the softest she’s ever felt, but it’s better than nothing. 

She falls asleep wondering what the next day will bring. 

Xxxx 

It’s only oh-eight-hundred, and yet Clay already feels like the sun’s baking him alive. Jason assigned him and Quinn to patrol the north side of the temporary refugee camp they’d set up, while Sawyer and Reynolds got the south side. Jason and Ray took the east side, and Campbell and Harris from Delta took the west side. It’s mostly boring work, and Clay can’t help but wish he was in bed sleeping. 

His eyes are  _ burning _ , he's so exhausted, and judging from the progressive snipiness of Jason’s comments over the radio, Clay knows he’s not the only one feeling the lack. Even Quinn has retreated into total silence, which means he’s gotten to a place where even words are an effort. Eric’s been trying to get Bravo pulled and replaced with the rest of Delta, to no avail. He doesn’t have the clout to just.. _ make  _ it happen, and whoever’s batting for Delta does.

Privately, Clay thinks that this kind of job is beneath Bravo. They should be out kicking down doors, hitting it fast and hard; not babysitting a bunch of temporary refugees too frightened to even ask for water. The threat assessment of this group is relatively low for now, but won’t stay that way should they keep them in stasis without answers. They don’t know he can speak their native tongue, and don’t bother holding back on their opinions of Americans, at least to each other. That opinion is... _ not high,  _ to say the least. 

All except Husna, he realizes. So far, she’s the only person that’s seemed neither disdainful nor upset about the sudden uprooting. He thinks about it harder, and realizes she’d been one of the few people to have a bag with her when she left, had the foresight to even bring a coat. It intrigues him a little, he won’t lie; he’s always been attracted to a certain kind of efficiency and pragmatism. 

Stella’s face floats into his mind then, her and the strange silence he’d left her in. She’d kissed him honestly enough before he’d left, but demurred on driving him to base, claiming a sharp headache that made her vision go haywire. He could see the lie written in her eyes, but for once didn’t have the heart to say something. It wouldn’t be shocking if this latest deployment were enough to permanently drive them apart, the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

The sudden wet crackle of gunfire yanks Clay out of his thoughts, and he finds cover right as a bullet whizzes past him. 

Well, fuck. Guess they’re in it now. 

Xxxx 

Husna is jerked out of sleep by an earth-shaking boom, followed by short intermittent bursts of crackling. She and Kinnette pull Arqa between them, covering his head with their arms. He whimpers and cries for his parents, fat tears rolling down from his chocolate-colored eyes. Husna can’t look at him for very long or else she feels her heart might physically shatter. 

A spray of bullets dot the wall that faces the street, and it’s only from long practice that Husna doesn’t scream. Kinnette has paled entirely and is shaking uncontrollably, while Arqa’s weeping is so loud Husna half-expects the rebels to find them any moment. She does her best to comfort them both, reminds them that the Americans are here to protect them. Kinnette sends her a flat look that tells of her opinion on  _ that _ , and Husna lets her words trail off. 

It seems they’re suspended for hours in terrified anticipation, before the gunfire abruptly stops. Husna wants to peek out but doesn’t dare, and pretty much holds her breath until a soldier opens the door to their room and tells them it’s safe to come out. She translates it for Kinnette and Arqa, and helps shuffle them both out the door, grabbing her bag and coat before shutting it softly behind herself. 

Outside the sun is bright and blinding, and it takes a moment for Husna’s eyes to adjust. It seems as though everyone’s being brought out of their homes, and she soon gets lost in the crowd. None of the faces in the immediate area look familiar, and a beat of panic hits her, because she has no clue where she’s going or what’s happening, what might happen next. Clay’s voice right next to her ear should not be as comforting as it is. 

“This way, ma’am,” he softly says, and guides her over to where her village is gathered. She shoots him a grin that he easily returns, and they soon fall into light conversation as the crowd begins moving down a dirt path that looks vaguely familiar. She learns he’s from Virgina, in the States, and that he’s stationed in Qumar for the next couple of months. Somewhere along the way she gets the impression that he’d like to tell her more, but just can’t. As another of the men from the truck reminds him when he sidles up next to them. 

“Aha, there you are! Boss was just looking for you, think you better go check in. Wanted to remind you about not spilling too much,” the other man shoots him A Look that holds a little bit of authority, and although Clay looks upset he does as told. Husna watches him go, and can’t help but feel a little disappointed that they didn’t get to talk longer. She also feels a little bit angry at the other man for intruding, because it’s not like Clay was spilling state secrets. He was just asking if she had any pets, for fuck’s sake. 

But she bites her tongue, and doesn’t say anything that’s bubbling at the tip of it. No matter how much it kills her to do so. 


	3. i saw your face (they told me love was blind)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave a review!
> 
> warning for oblique references to sex, but nothing explicit.

Clay falls onto his bed in the barracks, breath whooshing out of him. They’re officially one-third of the way through this deployment, and it’s been fucking hell every step of the way. From dealing with faulty intel and miscommunications, to even shit like sudden and violent rainstorms sweeping through right as they were leaving for a mission. He hates this with intensity, knows he’s not the only one and is careful not to bitch too much. The Brass has ways of making his life even worse, and he’s fully aware. 

A few moments later, some grunt comes into the doorway of the barracks and waits for Clay to acknowledge him. Clay does so with a roll of his head and a raised eyebrow, secretly enjoying how the guy nearly pisses himself as he has to come closer to hand Clay something. This interaction is the guy’s first time around a big, bad Navy SEAL, and he’s not having fun. Clay is having  _ all of the fun,  _ just because he needs something to do for entertainment, 

The sadistic pleasure falls away entirely as he shuffles through the stack of envelopes and slices one open. It’s unusual for Stella to have mailed him something, considering they usually just tried to video-chat once a week. But she hadn’t been available this past week, and maybe this was just her way of catching up. 

He knows as soon as he reads the first line what this is, and suddenly feels like he’s going to be sick. 

_ Dear Clay,  _

_ I never thought I’d be writing one of these letters, always looked down on women who did so as being unbearably weak and cowardly. And maybe I am, perhaps this is the price we both have to pay for my not being strong enough. I can’t do this anymore, any of it. I can’t handle having you gone for months at a time, not knowing where you are or if you’re in danger. It cuts me into pieces, and soon I’m gonna have nothing left.  _

_ You were never the light of at the end of the tunnel, just another torch along the way, and I think you feel the same. We both know we were never meant for forever, and it’s not fair to keep clinging so tight when there’s something better for us both out there. I know this will hurt, but one day you’ll wake up with somebody else and realize this really was for the better. Hopefully, I’ll do the same.  _

_ By the time you get back, I will already have left. I am so sorry, Clay. Just so sorry.  _

_ All my love,  _

_ Stella  _

__

He’s a man frozen in time for a solid minute and stares numbly at the paper clutched in his hands. He’d known it was coming, quietly prepared himself for the inevitable conclusion of their relationship, but never thought she’d do it like this. Had no clue she’d write him a fucking  _ Dear John _ , like the shitty Nicholas Sparks novels an old girlfriend loved. He feels both physically ill and unbelievably angry, and underneath that, just so fucking  _ sad _ . 

Almost without meaning to, he crumples the paper and throws it at the wall, and then drives his fist into the wall too. His knuckles burst open, and crimson starts pouring down his arm, and he’s caught staring at the red rivers. The world around him fades away, while he watches his blood drain out ever so slowly. 

A hand on his shoulder snaps him back to reality, and he turns to swing at the intruder. It’s lucky for him that his opponent is bigger and stronger, and captures Clay’s hand and wrestles it behind his back. The voice in his ear snaps him back, and his cheeks turn an apple red as he realizes he just tried to punch Bravo One, an action that will surely get his ass kicked most unpleasantly. 

The embarrassment heightens when his arm is released, and he turns and realizes the entire team is standing in the barracks, all wearing open looks of shock.

“We good now?” Jason asks. Clay nods, and sheepishly rubs the back of his neck with one hand. 

“Yeah, sorry about that, Boss.” 

“Let me look at your busted knuckles, huh, Clay?” Trent guides him to one of the lower bunks, and kneels in front of him, med kit at the ready. Miraculously his fingers aren’t broken, just bruised, but will probably hurt for a week. It’s what he deserves, he thinks wryly, as he studies the pristine gauze wrapped around his hand. 

“What happened, Clay?” Jason finally asks. 

With a sigh, Clay waves his hand dismissively towards the balled-up paper lying on the floor. He lets out a half-strangled laugh and leans forward, rubs his hands over his face. If he doesn’t laugh, he thinks he might cry, and he would rather cut out his tongue than do that. Especially in front of them, these tough-as-hell guys he looks up to like idols. 

“Stella. She, uh, sent me a  _ Dear John.  _ It’s not like it’s any big surprise, we’d been going that way for a while, but I guess this deployment did her in.” 

The guys are stunned by that as well, but recover soon enough and make commiserating noises. Someone awkwardly picks the paper up, although he doesn’t move his gaze from the floor to see what they do with it. He doesn’t care at this point, to be quite honest. There’s the soft sound of the paper being passed around, and he can hear derisive snorts following its path. 

Since they’re not on a mission, he climbs up onto his bunk and shuts his eyes, forces himself into a restless sleep. 

XXX 

Clay weaves in and out of the busy downtown crowd, music blaring from his phone. Rhythmically his feet pound against the pavement, legs aching with the urge to stop. He glances at his Fitbit, notates with a pleased smirk that he’s cut down his time by a whole three minutes. That temporary distraction is enough that he misses someone walking directly in front of him and bowls them over. 

He and the other person fall in a tangle of limbs, and he yelps a little as hot liquid pours over him. 

“Oh gosh, I am  _ so  _ sorry,” a voice says, and he shoves himself up and grins at Husna. Even though it’s been a month, he doesn’t think he could forget those green eyes or the scent of black currants and orchids. She’s staring at him with her mouth open, the cup still in her hand. 

“Well, it does seem we keep running into each other. Apologies for the spilled drink. Can I buy you another?” 

Although she protests a little, she does allow him to lead her inside and purchase another venti tea. In return, she buys him a bottle of water, and they find a little cafe in the shade. He appreciates the cool breeze that sweeps through, drying the sweat on the back of his neck. 

The hours pass as they engage in spirited conversation, topics flowing fast and easy. He finds himself telling her about Brian, while she speaks of her father. They compare books read versus the ones they still want to read and spend nearly a half-hour debating the merits of Danielle Steel. For Clay, it’s his guilty pleasure reading, while Husna thinks the books are trash and should be burned at the stake. 

Before either of them know, the sun is dipping low in the sky, painting a beautiful sunset of oranges and purples. Clay can’t help that he slips her his number or kisses her cheek before jogging the rest of the way to base. 

XXXX 

She knows what she’s doing isn’t smart, yet can’t bring herself to regret it. Clay is sunshine personified, a kind of warmth she wants to spend forever reveling in. His energy is infectious, and she thinks she hasn’t laughed as hard or as much since her father died. As cliche as it sounds, every moment with him honestly feels like a dream that she never wants to wake from. 

Arms wrap around her suddenly, tugging her into a solid surface to lean on. She grins and tips her head up, electricity shooting down her spine when his lips meet hers. The kiss deepens, and soon they’re moving from the front porch into her living room. His lips dance down her neck, and his hands tug on the bottom of her shirt. It’s lovely, and it’s beautiful, and it’s everything she’s ever dreamed of. 

Later that night, a strange sort of seriousness falls over them. It will be the final month of his stay in Qumar in two weeks. So far, the team is on track to leave on time. She plays with his fingers where they’re draped over her shoulder, and bites her lip while she contemplates that. If even the  _ thought _ of him leaving shatters her heart into pieces, she can’t even imagine saying goodbye for the final time. 

“What are we going to do,” she wonders aloud. He brushes a thumb over her knuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead. For the rest of the night, they stay in contented silence, legs intertwined. 


	4. if you stick with me (i can take you higher)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Clay have a discussion, as Clay and Husna's relatonship deepens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for a bit of a late update; an unfortunately-timed broken foot (not for me!) means I don't have as much time to write. Thanks for your patience!

Jason Hayes enters his team's barracks, a faint smile crossing his face at the camaraderie as Sonny, Ray, Brock, and Trent shout and tease each other over a poker game. Cerb thumps his tail and woofs every so often, adding his two cents when he feels it's appropriate. The smile tapers off when Jason realizes precisely who is not present. 

Clay has begun a strange and exciting pattern of requesting liberty off-base at every possible opportunity. Any spare time that they weren't on a mission or sleeping was devoted to going into the city, disappearing for hours at a time. The team didn't know where he was going or who he was going to see, but it didn't take much for Jason to figure it out, especially after Blackburn called Jason into a meeting. 

The Brass became concerned about Clay spending significant time with a local, worried about the security of their missions and their men. Jason made the argument that Clay knew what to say and what not to say, that he was as loyal a man as Jason had ever served with and that national security was not at risk. The arguments didn't dissuade the Brass, and Jason had been ordered to cut off the burgeoning relationship. 

Privately Jason hated the idea of it because he hadn't seen Clay this happy in months, but he understood. 

"Any of y'all seen Clay lately?" he asks, perching on the edge of a table. His men look at him and then each other before shaking their heads. Ray shuffles through his cards and lays one down. 

"He asked for permission to go off-base, and I granted it." 

"He said where he was going?" 

"No, but I didn't ask. Jace, what is this about?" 

Jason sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. 

"The Brass has started to make noise about Clay seeing his..special friend." 

The guys all shoot each other confused looks, and Trent swigs from a beer before throwing down a card. 

"Special friend?" 

"He hasn't said anything to you?" 

Another round of head shakes. 

"If anyone asks, I went out on an errand. Shouldn't be long. Cell's on me in case I'm needed." 

The drive through the normally-bustling city is quiet, the lateness of the hour clearing many people off the roads. Jason chooses to drive in silence, thoughts whirring on how to approach Clay about it. Push too hard, and the kid'll dig in his heels, but don't push hard enough, and he'll keep it up regardless. He shoves a hand over his closely-cropped hair and sighs as he pulls off the side of the road in front of the little house from 2 months ago. 

Silently he slides out of the car and goes to the front door, knocking gently. A woman answers, curls of black falling down around her face. She's gorgeous, and Jason can see why the kid fell for her, even if she's a significant departure from Stella. 

"I'd like to speak to Clay, please," he requests and watches as doubt flashes bright as day in her eyes. The sound of his voice beckons Clay, and the younger man presses a kiss to her head before murmuring something in an unfamiliar language and stepping outside. There are a steeliness and an apprehension in his eyes that shows he knows exactly why Jason's here and that he's prepared to fight. 

They sit on the little wooden porch and look out at the chilly desert night. 

"Brass wants you to stand down, far as she's concerned," Jason informs him. CLay sucks in an audible breath and exhales it slowly. 

"Yeah, figured that was coming. Did they say why?" 

"Worried about state secrets." 

Clay snorts and rolls his eyes pushes his fingers through his hair. 

"She's not a terrorist, Jace. She's not. I'd bet my trident on it." 

Jason's not looking at Clay, so he doesn't bother to hide his incredulous eyebrow-raise. He'd never heard Bravo Six sound so sure about Stella in their more than two years together, and never confident enough to bet the one thing that mattered most to him. 

"What do you two think you're gonna do, when this deployment's over? I mean, honestly. How do you think you're gonna work things out?" 

"She just asked me the same question a little bit ago. Told her we'd cross that bridge when we came to it." 

There's a question burning in the back of Jason's mind, and he briefly contemplated whether or not to ask it. Decide,  _ screw it,  _ and ask. 

"What about this girl is so damn special?" 

Clay blows out a breath and lets his chin meet his chest, rubbing a hand over his head. 

"Jace... she's everything I ever wanted, and all the things I needed. She lights me up, and I feel as though I could power whole cities when I'm with her. I don't know how to explain it, but I can't imagine leaving her behind here." 

Thoughts of Alana flash into Jason's mind, and he groans internally because that's exactly how he felt about her in the early stages. He'd never met anyone who made him feel the same way and could only imagine how he'd have reacted had they been ripped apart. Add in the fact that Clay's as stubborn as a damn mule, and he can tell this is gonna be a real mess. 

They sit in silence for a little while longer, their only companion the cool desert breeze. 

XXXX 

The soft sound of her door opening and shutting wakes Husna, and she watches with a fond smile as Clay's shadow creeps down the hallway towards her open bedroom door. He comes in a moment later and sets down a duffle bag at the entrance. She opens her arms and grins as he falls onto her, careful to keep his weight on his elbows. 

He presses gentle kisses along her cheek, hair brushing her face gently. Tenderly, she strokes her fingernails over his back and smirks a little as he shivers at the contact. They continue like that for a few more minutes before he pushes himself up, velvet lips meeting hers. 

"You ever been hiking?" He asks, fingertips dancing along her arms. She shakes her head and lets her back arch a little as waves of pleasure flow down her spine. 

"C'mon, I wanna take you, there's this spot I found." 

His elation is contagious, and she finds herself giggling a little as she slides out of bed. It doesn't take her long to dress, and before long, they're on the road out of town, hands interlocked. The moon is bright and full overhead, his eyes an ocean blue in the light of it. They talk about everything and nothing as they walk, and it hits her then what people mean when they call their lover their best friend. He's the person she wants to tell everything to, from what she got at the coffee shop this afternoon to how it felt when her father died. 

They walk for what seems like forever, crossing winding roads and dipped valleys. Above them, the stars glitter across a velvet sky, and she's entranced by the sheer beauty. For a moment, they stop, so she simply revels in it. She's reminded of her father and his lessons in finding the best part in even the everyday things. He believed that there was something good in all things, and encouraged her to find those things. 

They crest the top of the cliff at dawn, and for a moment, she simply stands there and gawks. Crimson and tangerine are swirled together behind the mountains' sharp peaks, outlied by a band of amber. White clouds are overlaid in streaks against the vivid colors, and it's easily one of the most beautiful things she's ever seen. She turns to look at Clay, who's sporting a wide grin with evident delight in his eyes. 

They sit with their feet dangling over the edge, her head on his shoulder with his arm around her. No words are exchanged, the only sound the birds chirping as they sing their morning songs. At this moment, she wants to stay forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave a review!


End file.
